Nostalgia

I took the boys to Babies R Us yesterday to pick up some things, namely diapers (Sorry Planet Earth, not such a good Earth Day present…). We walked thorough the clothing area on the way to check out, and walked right past the display of premie clothes. I did a double take as we passed by.

There is just no way, no way at all that these two boys ever fit into those little, tiny pajamas. And not only fit into them, actually swam in them, to the point where I questioned if the tag was even accurate. These two moose sized children who sit up and roll over and eat squash, that they were once so tiny, they fit in doll clothes, it makes my heart hurt a little. They were too small for their car seats and we had to prop them up with a probably unsafe number of hospital blankets. And now, they are dangerously close to needing big boy car seats—the ones that fit up to 65 pounds.

I was looking through the pictures from their first two weeks. I scarcely recognized them. They look so small, so fragile. Their faces seemed so, I don’t know, gaunt. Their skin looks thin and their fingers so tiny. And yet, they’re in there. I look closely, and it is their eyes, their noses, their little dimples. You can see what they have now become, they just needed to fill in, to stretch out.

But that scares me, because I look at them now, and I cannot see 6 more months down the road. It is totally beyond my imagination to think of them waving…..standing……talking. I know that little boys are hiding in these baby boys. I’m just having a hard time letting go of what they are now.

2 Responses to “Nostalgia”

  1. Idoia - April 26, 2009

    YES, I know exactly what you mean. I packed up the girls’ clothes yesterday and found two preemie onesies. Holy crap, they were so tiny. It’s crazy — if these first 6 months went by this fast, the next 6 months are going to fly too, which means they’ll be a year old before we know it!

    Your boys are handsome, btw!

  2. mom - April 26, 2009

    And it’s the same for me every time I see you. Imagine, a time when they hand their own to you

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